


corseted

by janie_tangerine



Series: silken [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Banned Together Bingo 2020, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Canon Universe, Corsetry, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, Dancing, Explicit Sexual Content, Feminization, Genderplay, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Geraskier Kink Bingo (The Witcher), Idiots in Love, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Service Top Jaskier | Dandelion, The Author Regrets Nothing, jaskier's definitely up for best boyfriend of the century, this is some of the most self-indulgent porn i ever wrote and idc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24542530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: in which things are brought up a notch or ten, Jaskier decides that introducing the corset into the mix was an excellent idea and Geralt is entirely on board with it.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: silken [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1666174
Comments: 33
Kudos: 379
Collections: Banned Together Bingo 2020, Geraskier Kink Bingo, Good Relationship Etiquette (familial included) - or Good BDSM Etiquette - or Good Relationship and BDSM Etiquette





	corseted

**Author's Note:**

> *waves* sooo, I have two lovely bingo cards I signed up for this last month and I'm v. excited to give both a go and since I needed some self-indulgent porn, I left the window open for this one and it fit for a square on both cards, I present you this absolutely plotless porn for the Banned Together Bingo square _explicit orgasm_ and for the _lingerie_ prompt for the Geraskier Kink Bingo card - I'm still going for the minimalist title theme because at this point why changing *cough*, I own nothing except the porn and I'll just drop this here and saunter back downwards. /o\ ;)

It’s been three weeks or so and Jaskier is counting his coin for the night as he waits for Geralt to come back to the inn - he _did_ say it would be a longer hunt than usual and to not wait up, but Jaskier also has some math to do, so he’ll be up until he’s done with it.

He has done decently for the night - it’s not a huge town, so the crowd wasn’t plentiful, _but_ it was generous, so he has made enough to last him a week or so if he were alone. Good. It means he can spare a bit more than he could have in the last three towns they visited or so.

He reaches down for his pack, then takes two pouches for coin out. He takes about a fourth of his money out of the pile, then moves the larger quantity into the biggest pouch and the last quarter into a smaller one. He then puts away the bigger pouch and pours the content of the smaller on the table, counting them anew.

 _Not bad_ , he decides when he’s done. He _has_ already bought the paint he promised Geralt he would get, back before they left for the next hunt, and he had told the tailor that they would be gone for about a month or a bit longer before commissioning him another dress, one that would go well with a corset, in the same shade of teal as the smallclothes he bought the first time around. He also commissioned the corset and thankfully wasn’t asked to pay up front - the advantages of being a long-time client, he supposes. As it is, he has _almost_ enough for the price of the dress, and nothing for the corset’s, but it’ll be another two weeks before they go back to collect it… which means it should be enough to cover it, saving money. If it’s not, he’ll just take the money from his main reserve and do longer sets. It would be _well_ worth it.

If he thinks about the way Geralt looked at him when he suggested the corset -

He shakes his head - if he thinks about it any further he _will_ jerk off at the mere thought of it and he’d rather wait for Geralt to come back if he has to indulge in _that_ specific activity tonight. He puts away the second pouch, tying his pack closed, then changes into a pair of old trousers and a shirt he only wears to bed, wondering what’s taking Geralt so long and hoping that it’s nothing more than just the hunt dragging.

He chances a look out of the window, but there’s no one outside. He sighs, moving to sit on the bed - he scribbles a bit in his notebook, he has a new ballad that should come out rather nicely if he can figure out the ending, then gives up on it after a short while, realizing his head isn’t in it. He’s _almost_ convinced himself that he should just go to sleep and hope Geralt is there in the morning when the door opens and Geralt drags himself inside the room, dusty hair tied back and his armor covered in dust as well, but Jaskier can’t see blood, so - that’s good, he supposes.

“Hey,” he says, and then Geralt looks at him and _oh_ , his eyes are still black, so he’s pretty sure he won’t get proper answers out of him, but he also doesn’t look like he’s about to faint, just as if he’s been beaten around a _lot_. Geralt hums in acknowledgment - right. He’s not getting straight answers, for now, but that’s fine - he stands up, helping him out of the armor, and he winces at seeing the shape of dark bruises on his back when his shirt hoists itself up.

“Gods,” he says, “whatever it was it did throw you around a bit or _what_?”

“You don’t say,” Geralt deadpans with a voice so low Jaskier can barely hear it.

“Oh, he speaks,” he says, lightly, putting the armor away. “At least I don’t see blood. I guess everything was fine?”

“Hm,” Geralt nods, “went to the alderman already.”

So they can leave tomorrow. Good - it’s not a bad town, but it’s not that great for earning coin, either.

“Should I try to get you a bath now?” Jaskier asks, wishing he hasn’t sent the tub back, but it had been _late_ and the water had been cold and dirty.

Geralt shakes his head. “Too tired. Tomorrow.”

Then he reaches for something on his waist and dumps it in Jaskier’s hand before he kicks off his boots and goes to lay down on the bed without even bothering to take his hair out of its tie - fuck, he has to be _dead_ tired if he’s not even washing his face.

Then Jaskier realizes that it’s _the goddamned payment for the hunt_.

“Wait,” he asks, “why are you giving this to _me_ now?”

Geralt shrugs minutely, hiding his face in the pillow. “Contribution,” he says, and then he _passes out straight_ without even bothering to get under the covers.

 _Contribution_ -

Oh.

Does he mean -

Jaskier slowly opens the purse and counts the money.

It _would_ cover both corset and what was missing for the dress, except that it means Geralt’s actual current money will be low until he finds another hunt, but then again… he _does_ have money for both of them for a while, and if he doesn’t have to save anymore then he _could_ pay for the both of them for a while.

He smiles to himself - tomorrow he’ll just ask Geralt straight if that was what he meant.

Now he gets the damned leather trousers off him so at least he doesn’t end up being too uncomfortable and gets him under the covers, curling up behind him - they can both wash in the morning.

\--

He wakes up to sunlight hitting his face through the inn’s window and the other side of the bed empty - on one side, he’s momentarily disappointed… but then he moves on his back just to meet the sight of Geralt slipping on the midnight blue pair of smallclothes with his hair still damp from having been washed not long before, and _fuck_ but he hasn’t been awake long enough to end up with a raging hard-on just at the sight.

“That’s wholly unfair, you know,” he says, and he’s halfway sure that Geralt _was_ grinning to himself before schooling his face into a somewhat neutral expression.

“What,” he says, pulling them up but not enough to cover his cock, which is maybe not as hard as Jaskier’s right now but _certainly_ is standing at attention, “this?”

Jaskier considers just going straight on his knees at _that_ , but given that whenever he does it while Geralt wears the damned smallclothes he ends up spending after seconds and he would like to not be done in a minute, not when he feels reasonably rested and Geralt _looks_ reasonably rested…

He grins and stands up, not bothering to hide _his_ own raging erection, and for a moment Geralt looks somewhat surprised, as if even if it’s been weeks he still can’t conceive that Jaskier finds him wearing silken smallclothes the hottest thing he’s ever seen… except that Jaskier is absolutely _not_ going to give up on making sure he gets it at some point.

“Indeed,” he says, “ _that_. And you know exactly what it does to me, don’t you?”

At _that_ , Geralt has the grace to look somewhat sheepish. “Might be,” he agrees, shrugging minutely. “Guess it’s just… nice to see it.”

For a moment Jaskier doesn’t get the deal, though in his defense he’s barely awake and he went straight from sleeping to being unable to think about anything that wasn’t putting his hands on Geralt’s dick, then -

Oh.

 _Oh_ , the idiot _still_ thinks there has to be a catch somewhere.

Except that Jaskier has learned that in these cases showing how he feels might be more effective than talking, so he just shakes his head and puts a hand behind Geralt’s neck, pressing closer.

“Just in case you need a reminder,” he says, “if I went on my knees right now I’d last maybe a goddamned minute, so it’s not just _nice_ to see it.”

He reaches out, his fingers around Geralt’s dick, giving him a stroke or two, and the moan that leaves Geralt’s mouth almost makes his knees go weak. _Almost_.

“It’s _fucking hot_ , that’s what it is, and just the idea that you go around all day _wearing_ them is enough to make me feel fifteen all over again.”

Geralt moans again, pushing into his touch, _both_ his hands’, his damp hair feeling so very soft under Jaskier’s fingers. Jaskier moves ahead and kisses him as he strokes him a bit faster and then some more, and thankfully the smallclothes are around Geralt’s ankles now so there is no way they’ll get ruined.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, “ _fuck_ , definitely the best idea I’ve ever had. Unless I change my mind a week from now.”

Geralt _groans_ into his mouth as he crashes it against Jaskier’s, and Jaskier can feel that he’s close now, he’s fully hard against his hand, but - not just _yet_ , he decides.

“Guess you were eager for it if you _contributed_ the entire payment from yesterday?”

“What - what if I am,” Geralt manages to say in between kisses, and he really won’t last that much longer.

“Then it’s both of us, darling,” Jaskier says, and then drags Geralt’s head downwards so he has his mouth right over his ear, “now _please_ come on me, I have to take that bath after all and I can’t wait to jerk off inside it while I look at you wearing _them_.”

It _does_ get to his head a bit that Geralt makes a noise in the back of his throat and comes all over his hand a moment later, his hands grasping at Jaskier’s sides, and oh _fuck it_ , Jaskier waits until he’s done and then slides to his knees and licks him clean, taking his time and trying to ignore his achingly hard cock until he’s done and he can find the towel Geralt had thrown to the side and clean him up again.

The panties are still around his ankles.

“Now,” he says, pulling them up, “I think I can get that bath. You mind waiting to get dressed?”

“No,” Geralt groans, not quite looking at him, but he’s half-smiling, and Jaskier is absolutely smirking to himself as he gets rid of his own night clothing, slips inside the tub - the water isn’t _that_ dirty and it’s still warm - and proceeds on jerking himself off without even trying to be subtle about it.

Geralt _does_ stare at him from the bed where he went to sit, and he only puts on his shirt. Damn, that blue _really_ looks good on him, but then again _all_ the colors he picked do, and Jaskier is _not_ going to think about how good he will look in the new dress.

He _isn’t_ fifteen anymore, as much as he might feel like he went straight back to that time lately.

When he’s as clean as it’s going to get, he gets out of the tub, dries himself and goes to grab some clean clothing. He can hear Geralt rustling around his own pack, probably fishing for clean trousers, and by the time he turns, he’s lacing that black leather over the midnight blue silk and _fuck_ , just _knowing_ he’s wearing them -

Jaskier _can_ do this like a civilized person whose head is absolutely _not_ in the gutter.

“You know,” he says, “with your _contribution_ , we are set.”

“... We are?” Geralt asks, sounding slightly surprised.

“Yes,” Jaskier says, “I only needed to cover a bit for the dress and the whole of the corset, so if you really don’t mind -”

“You _contributed_ to the entire thing until now,” Geralt mutters, “figured I should pull my weight. It’s good.”

Jaskier grins a bit wider.

“Then,” he says, “unless you have more contracts… we can start heading back. I _did_ tell the tailor we’d be away a month, give or take.”

Geralt nods, looking as excited about it as it gets _for him_ , and then goes to grab his swords.

Jaskier _really_ cannot wait to go collect his purchases.

\--

In between taking contracts along the way, it does take them another week and a half to finally reach their destination. They arrive in the late afternoon, and Jaskier is half in mind of going to the tailor and see if they can put their purchases to use that same evening, but the moment they enter the inn a farmer offers Geralt another contract - there really seems to be a drowner infestation around these parts, doesn’t it - and so it obviously won’t be the case, but Jaskier figures that they can just wait for the next day. They _do_ need the coin.

“So,” he asks the innkeeper after Geralt leaves, “do you need entertainment for tonight?”

“For _tonight_ yes,” the man nods. “For tomorrow, I’m afraid that I already have an agreement with another bard who should pass through on the way to Oxenfurt, and I don’t think he enjoys the prospect of a duet very much.”

“... It’s not Valdo Marx, is it,” Jaskier asks, praying it’s everyone but _him_ , but when the innkeeper answers negatively and makes a name he absolutely has never heard of yet, he lets out a breath of relief. When he learns that it’s actually the innkeeper’s nephew who is studying at Oxenfurt and has come back home for a term holiday, he figures _that_ ’s why he wouldn’t know him.

“And is your nephew doing well in his studies?” Jaskier asks, suddenly remembering _one_ of the things he had proposed Geralt they could do.

“He’s very bright,” the innkeeper replies proudly. “He’s not as good as you, but he definitely has the skills, or so his teachers say. What _I_ know is that when he’s here he never gets hard bread thrown at him and he makes me good money.”

So, the kid is _good_ , which is absolutely excellent news. “Then I shall be glad to maybe talk to him at some point and to take some rest tomorrow, my good man. I will be back in time for dinner,” he says, and heads straight for the tailor’s. It _should_ be still open.

\--

It is, in fact, open. Jaskier can also appreciate that while the corset is supposed to go under the dress, it actually matches the satin perfectly, and just _looking_ at both, he feels his cheeks flame up.

“I suppose that your lady would appreciate it?” The other man asks, smirking.

“Oh, the - the lady _absolutely_ will be delighted with your work,” Jaskier says, sliding both bags of coin on the counter. The tailor counts them, satisfied. Then -

“This is actually a bit more than agreed,” he shrugs. “But I could throw in a few ribbons if you want to even it up.”

“Please,” Jaskier says, realizing now that his plans for proper braiding won’t go very far if he’s stuck with Geralt’s plain hair ties. He’s given some five, all a different shade of green, and so what if he’s smiling to himself very widely all over again as he brings his purchases up to their room and places the sack inside the only drawer?

 _Tomorrow_ , he tells himself as he takes his lute and goes downstairs.

For now, he’s not even going to think about what they’re doing tomorrow evening - the last thing he needs is the crowd noticing that he’s turned on while performing, after all.

\--

Geralt crashes into their room some time before dawn, still not covered in blood for some kind of miracle but definitely smelling of swamp water. Right. Drowners. He mutters something along the lines of worrying about it after he sleeps before he crashes on top of the covers _again_ , which is something he never quite used to do back in the day but apparently does now, and if Jaskier suspects is because he feels all right with slouching when _he_ is around, well… it’s a small price to pay for the swamp smell. At least it’s just _that_ and not guts or blood, which means Geralt probably burned the drowners, but he’ll ask for details later. He gets up enough to get Geralt’s trousers and boots off him and get him under the covers and then sleeps for a few more hours. When he wakes up, Geralt is dead to the world, and he stays dead to the world in the time it takes Jaskier to wash his face and get dressed.

He goes downstairs, gets some breakfast and brings it up - Geralt is still asleep, his hand grasping a fistful of Jaskier’s sheets, and Jaskier decides against waking him up - after all, it’s been maybe four hours or five at most since he came back, he was out the entire night and afternoon and he’s most likely dead tired, he’ll let him sleep. Especially since he doesn’t usually sleep like the dead for _this_ long and it certainly can hurt.

He doesn’t even stir until Jaskier has eaten his lunch, put the finishing touches on that ballad he has been working on, started on the lyrics for another and given his lute a tune and Geralt’s armor a quick clean-up, and when he actually groans into awakeness his hair is a tangled mess and he still smells of swamp, but at least he looks rested.

“Good afternoon,” Jaskier smirks as he closes his notebook.

“ _Afternoon_?” Geralt replies. “Shit, how long -”

“You came in before dawn and now it’s… well, yeah, a couple hours until sunset.”

“Could’ve woken me up,” he mutters.

“Nah,” Jaskier shakes his head, “you needed it. And you _really_ need a bath.”

“Fuck, yes,” Geralt groans. “At least I got paid just before coming here.”

“The alderman was awake?”

“Said he suffers from poor sleep so I should just come back whenever I was done. _Fuck_ , everything hurts.”

“I’ll go get that bath then. Oh, by the way, I went to get… our commissions,” Jaskier winks as he stands up.

Geralt’s eyes suddenly turn more alert. “You - you got them.”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, “and later... the owner’s nephew who is apparently a bard in training is going to play, so _I_ don’t have to.”

He can see the moment Geralt understands what Jaskier is implying. “Oh,” he says. “You mean - do you still want to -”

“Of course I want to,” he says. “I _always_ want to. So, that’s a plate of lunch I saved you. I think you can have it while I go down, chat with the bard in question and order you a bath. Then, well. No one is running after us. What do you say?”

Geralt bites down on his lip as he stands up, too. “Yes,” he says, not quite looking at him but sounding like he _does_ indeed want to. Nothing else, but it’s fine. It’s not as if Jaskier has come to expect poems when it comes to Geralt answering _that_ kind of question.

“Excellent,” he says. “I’ll be back shortly. Enjoy your food!”

He closes the door behind him and tells the innkeeper to send up a bath in twenty minutes or so and chats up the infamous nephew while they get the bath in question ready - the kid is at his second year of studies or so, actually seems to know his music theory and also thinks Valdo’s lessons are incredibly boring and dull and that his songs are equally bad. Jaskier decides that he likes him just based on _that_ and spares a few technique tips when the kid asks, and only goes back upstairs after the bath is brought up. He waits for the maids to leave the room, then walks inside and closes the door.

Geralt is already undressing, his dirty shirt and trousers falling on the ground along with the nondescript old underwear he still wears while on hunts, and he moves like he _really_ needs a massage.

“All done,” Jaskier says. “It seems like tonight’s bard will be capable.”

“Why,” Geralt answers, sliding inside the tub with a sigh, “you would have been disappointed if he was terrible?”

“I seem to recall that I promised you a dance. Wouldn’t want to do it over badly played music now, would I?”

“Sounds like _you_ wouldn’t,” Geralt says dryly as he leans down against the back of the tub, only the upper side of his chest not submerged in the scalding water. “Fuck, I needed it.”

“I can believe that. How many were they anyway?”

“Some fifteen,” Geralt groans.

“ _What_? Didn’t they say six?”

Geralt shrugs. “At least he agreed to renegotiate.”

“... Did he?”

“What I’d have asked for ten, but no point in complaining.”

Jaskier nods, figuring that it’s already a miracle the alderman _did_ agree to it. He rummages in his back for a moment, finding a nice lightly scented lavender oil that usually does wonders for tangled hair, and it’s telling that Geralt barely even flinches when he moves closer and starts running it through his wet hair. It’s dirty with swamp water other than tangled, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get it out.

“So,” Jaskier says as he smooths it out carefully, “are we going for - everything we said the last time?”

“Did you change your mind?” Geralt asks, sounding… cautiously guarded. Except that Jaskier can hear a slight tinge of disappointment.

“ _I_ didn’t,” Jaskier assures him, reaching for his bar of lavender soap which is entirely better than whatever inns usually provide so he can proceed to actually wash his hair properly, “but maybe you might have changed it about some things, so I figured I’d ask first. _I_ am absolutely on board with everything I proposed.”

“... I didn’t either. Change my mind,” Geralt says a long moment later, looking down at his hands as he scrubs dirt from his arm.

“Good,” Jaskier replies, “because I have been very excited about trying this out, so - just lean back a bit?”

Geralt does, and in the next few minutes Jaskier has managed to wash his hair properly - when he has washed out all soap and oil it’s clean and silky and bright white, free from dirt _and_ swamp water smell, and it does seem like Geralt has finished with the rest. Also, the water has gone lukewarm. He stands up and goes to get the clean linens he had asked the innkeeper to bring up and hands them to Geralt so he can dry up - he lets him do that and rinse out his hair, too. He smiles to himself when Geralt opens the window and goes to sit on the edge so that the sunlight gets his hair dry sooner, and he takes his time opening the wardrobe and taking out the sack with dress, ribbons and corset - the paints are in his bag, but they’ll be for later.

“So,” he asks, “want to see them?”

Geralt nods, not quite speaking out loud, and so Jaskier opens the sack and takes out the corset first - it’s that same teal silk as the smallclothes, with laces on the back and what looks like a fairly flat front that would fit someone without breasts a lot better than a regular one. Jaskier glances at Geralt and he can see his eyes turn a darker shade of molten gold as he stares down at it, his throat obviously hitching a bit.

“How does it look? Good?” He asks.

Geralt nods, muttering what sounds like an assent.

Jaskier smiles a bit wider when he takes out the dress - if the plum one had been perfect for a ball, _this_ gown would definitely be fit for a royal one. In always the same teal satin, it’s still long enough that the hem would brush the ground, with a large, airy skirt with frills at the hem and a lighter tone for the silk underskirt, a regular waist, dark green laces on the back to lace it up, long bell sleeves and a discreet round neckline; but what really makes it stand out is that _all_ the hems and the neckline are carefully embroidered with intricate golden leaves. He can see the way Geralt’s eyes go wider as he looks at it, then at the corset, and his hold on the linen falters for a moment.

“I guess this one is a yes, too?”

Geralt gives him a curt nod. He’s _not_ pointing out that it’s too much or too nice, even if Jaskier can see that he’s actively trying not to, and his throat _is_ working up and down - he locks his fingers around the linen again before he nods again. “Shit,” he says, “you… _really_ like it, don’t you.”

“Oh, as much as _you_ do, at least.” He lays down both dress and corset on the bed, then goes to get the paints he’s kept carefully hidden in his bag and puts them close by while Geralt lets his hair dry some more - at some point he obviously decides it’s as good as it gets and heads for his own bag, slipping on the teal smallclothes.

Jaskier _really_ needs to get himself in check.

“Should we, then?”

Geralt gives him another curt nod and some noise of assent, so - that’s good enough. Jaskier helps him into the corset easily enough, making sure it’s not too high or too low.

“How tight do you want it?” He asks before starting to lace it up.

He’s pretty sure Geralt swallows down a noise at the question. He waits a while, and then -

“Enough to feel it,” Geralt finally says. “But not to… hurt too much.”

Jaskier nods. “On it,” he says, staring to lace up the strings at its back, and while it’s not the same as doing it with a girl same as he has endless times, seeing Geralt’s old white scars disappear behind each turn of the dark green string as he tries to make it _not_ too tight is sending his blood rushing downwards regardless, and - it _does_ give a semblance of curves, not much but enough that the dress itself wouldn’t look ill-chosen on it. If he’s also turned on by how Geralt’s shoulders sag downwards ever so slightly every time he loops the string upwards, _well_.

He has all the time in the world to act on it.

Later.

He ties the corset with a small bow.

“Tight enough?” He asks.

“Yes,” Geralt answers. Well, he doesn’t sound like he’s lying, so Jaskier decides to move on to the dress itself, which does indeed fall on Geralt’s sides perfectly - the hint of curve given by the corset makes sure that when Jaskier laces it up and ties the soft belt around his waist it looks smooth. The shoulders also fit perfectly, same as the sleeves, but _that_ was not anything Jaskier had doubted considering how well the first dress had worked out. He smooths the satin on the back of the skirt, noting in satisfaction that it’s long enough to reach Geralt’s ankles but not to get dirty on the ground.

“Excellent,” he says. “Now I think it’s time for some _proper_ braiding.”

Geralt gives him another nod, sitting down on the bed. He’s still tense, but he had taken it into consideration - he _won’t be_ , when he’s done here. He reaches for a brush, though there’s barely the need of it considering that his oils _do_ work when it comes to untangling hair, and it’s all soft and silky now, so he only runs it through it once before putting it away. He thinks about it for a moment - he _has_ run through a lot of options and honestly he just hopes they keep on doing this long enough that he has a chance to try _all_ of them -, and then settles on double waterfall braids on both sides of Geralt’s head. He works slowly, taking his time to make sure they are even before tying them both in the back, running his fingers over the loose strands falling from the sides, feeling it as Geralt’s shoulders loose more and more tension while he does it. He ties both braids together with a silk ribbon in the same light shade of teal as the underskirts, making sure none of the hair gets tangled, then takes a step back - it looks pretty damn good.

He glances out of the window - it’s not sunset yet, which means they do have some time left before the music downstairs starts. Good.

“Excellent,” he says, “that’s done. Second thoughts about the paints or not?”

Geralt shakes his head. “Just - not too much,” he says. Which could only have been expected, but that’s all right - it’s not as if Jaskier’s ever thought _heavy_ paint was necessary on anyone (himself as well, the times he indulged in it).

“Of course,” he says, moving so that he’s in front of Geralt - he can already see that he looks stunning, but he’ll let himself take a good look at the full picture later. For now, he opens the little box, putting it on the side - it has a few paints and a small brush that should work well enough for _this_ one endeavor.

He grabs the brush, dipping it in the first small square filled with dark green paint, and he can feel Geralt’s heartbeat speed up as he closes his eyes and lets him apply it slowly on the upper part of his eyelid. Jaskier doesn’t even presume to begin to guess the amount of trust he’s being shown as it is so he tries to not take too much time - he uses it on both eyes, then smooths it out with a lighter shade and finally gives a few last touches with a third golden one that he’s sure would match Geralt’s eyes perfectly before putting away the brush.

“Right,” he says, reaching for a small vial that he put next to the box, “just a bit longer.”

Geralt nods, breathing out, and Jaskier is quick in brushing a bit of dark eyeliner just above his lashes - _he_ has used it from time to time so he had it with regardless, and even just a slim line would give a lovely finishing touch. He does it on both eyes, then puts it away.

“All done,” he says, standing up, “I think I did good, not to prop myself up.”

“Oh, and now _that_ would be news,” Geralt says, opening his eyes slowly as he stands up.

Well.

This is _so_ the best idea Jaskier’s _ever_ had - his eyes look like they’re glowing gold more than usual thanks to both paint and eyeliner, but that dress also falls so _well_ , framing that hint of waist that the corset gives it underneath perfectly, and he thinks he wants to tug at the hair underneath the braids so much he could burst with it, but he’s not going to rush it. Not when Geralt is moving so very slowly as he heads towards the mirror and takes a good look at himself in it.

Jaskier can _hear_ the breath he lets out when he takes in his full figure, hands going over his hips and running on the belt’s ribbon.

“Satisfied?” He asks, not even trying to hide how smug he’s feeling right now.

“Shut up,” Geralt replies, but he can see that his cheeks are just barely becoming redder, so - so he’s probably blushing furiously, for witcher standards.

“You’re welcome,” Jaskier grins back, and he _would_ leave Geralt some more time -

Except that suddenly he hears music coming from downstairs, and so what if he had slipped the kid a few coins to start with a couple of slow songs?

“Well,” he says, holding a hand out, “I did promise you a dance, didn’t I?”

“I don’t -” Geralt starts, then shakes his head. “I never did this. Not even - with normal clothing. Are you sure -”

“It’s hardly complicated,” Jaskier cuts him off. “Come on, you will never have the full experience otherwise. And it’s just the two of us.”

For a moment, Geralt stays very, very still -

Then he slips his hand into Jaskier’s, and Jaskier does _not_ remark that his fingers are maybe slightly trembling.

Instead, he holds it and pulls Geralt closer.

“I suppose I should lead?” He asks, and Geralt gives him a curt nod. Well then. He moves his other hand behind Geralt’s waist, and maybe for once he _is_ glad he got endless _proper_ dancing lessons before he decided he’d rather play the music instead. “Yours goes behind my shoulder,” he says. Geralt moves it in the correct place, even if he’s standing still like a log of wood, which won’t do - Jaskier threads their fingers together before giving him a rundown of how he should move his feet and dragging him further from the mirror, moving around the room slowly so he can get a feeling for it. He takes it easy in the beginning, letting Geralt adjust to it rather than trying to spin him around or anything of the kind, he can do that later, and _finally_ he does relax towards the end of the song, pressing up a bit closer, his bare feet peeking from under the skirt once in a while.

“This - this is nice,” Geralt finally says as the song winds down. Nothing more, but Jaskier hadn’t even expected _that_ , so he supposes that it’s going over better than he had assumed.

“Good,” he replies, brushing their lips together, “because we haven’t tried the _fun_ part yet.”

“... What,” Geralt blurts, “this… isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” Jaskier says as the bard downstairs gets into another song, still slow but not as much, “because I haven’t spun you around properly and that really, _really_ won’t do.”

And before Geralt can object, he _does_ move his arm from his waist so he can get him to do just that before returning in their previous position, the skirts lifting up as he does, and then he goes back to leading them across the floor, following the beat.

“ _That_ was the entire point,” Jaskier grins. “And I think we should do it _more_ ,” he goes on, squeezing around the small of Geralt’s back, and not missing the small moan that leaves Geralt’s mouth at hearing it.

 _Well then_.

He knows the songs.

He thinks they have at least three more before moving this to the bed, and he’s going to make _full_ use of the time he has left.

It would be a true pity otherwise.

\--

“You _are_ liking this,” Jaskier points out when three songs later they have indeed not stopped and Geralt _did_ stop looking stunted every time he got him to twirl. He could bet he actually _did_ fully get into it halfway through the second-to-last ballad, but it’s not like Geralt’s going to _tell_ him, so he’ll take what he can get, as in, that Geralt’s heartbeat is _not_ out of control for his standards and that he hasn’t asked him to cut it short yet.

But, he can feel that his heartbeat does pick up a bit when the bard downstairs moves into something more upbeat, and it _has_ been long enough.

“Maybe,” Geralt admits, his fingers still grasping Jaskier’s.

Oh, so he’s _not_ denying it.

“Good,” Jaskier says, “I will remember that. But I think maybe my lady _would_ like to bring this to the bed?”

Geralt shudders against him for a moment, slowing down some more until neither of them is moving.

“What if it’s the case?” He sounds like he’s trying it out, and it doesn’t come out half as smooth as Geralt probably hoped for, but it still makes Jaskier’s blood boil just hearing it.

“Then maybe we should,” he says, moving his hand from Geralt’s waist but not breaking his hold on the other, and takes care to make his way towards the bed very, very slowly, until they’re in front of it and he has both hands on Geralt’s hip, thumbs under the belt, before pushing him back. Geralt goes with it, lying down on the sheets and slowly spreading his legs, except that -

“I think,” Jaskier smirks, “that I want to try something out. But I think I will need you on your front for it. Just… not now.”

Geralt half-glares at him, though it’s not annoyed, merely… confused, maybe. “The point being?”

“The point being,” Jaskier says, “that there’s no reason to rush into things.” He smirks, his legs going to the sides of Geralt’s thighs, hands on his back. “After all,” he goes on, “personally, I think that the secret, when it comes to wooing a lady, is taking your time with the preliminaries.”

Then he goes in for a kiss, his hands going up to frame Geralt’s face, but he keeps it slow, moving his thumbs along his jaw and then lower on his neck, and when he needs to breathe he moves back, kissing his way down along Geralt’s neck until he reaches his neckline, hands moving down over his shoulders and then to his back, and when he moves his fingertips behind the laces and tugs them a bit, Geralt lets out a sound that makes him _almost_ want to come on the spot.

Almost.

“This all right then?” He asks, tugging more.

“Yes,” Geralt blurts as he gasps for breath - it’s nowhere near enough to cut it off and Jaskier knows, but he does seem to like it. Well. Good to know. He runs his other hand over his loose hair one, twice, then reaches over the skirt, not even looking at it, just feeling for Geralt’s dick underneath, and when he finally cups it he can feel that he’s hard as a rock, of course he is. He grins again, leaning back down, kissing his way from Geralt’s neckline to his ear, squeezing his dick through the silk, and Geralt’s hips immediately snap upward, looking for friction, and Jaskier can feel that he’s straining his arms with leaning down on them.

Now _that_ won’t do.

He moves his free arm behind Geralt’s back, fingers grasping on the laces and tugging some more.

“I think my lady needs to relax _and_ to let me worry about things.”

Geralt says nothing but the way he just pressed up against his palm, he thinks he didn’t mind that _whatsoever_.

A moment later, his hands move around Jaskier’s shoulders.

Oh, _good_.

“Perfect,” he says, and gods, on one side he kind of wants to drag it out, but on the other… _Geralt_ is the one out of the two of them whose refractory period is pretty much nonexistent, so - why not? He smiles a bit wider, rubbing his palm on Geralt’s dick through the silk - it’s hardly the best handjob he could come up with, but he doesn’t think it’s going to take very long, all things considered. “There you go,” he goes on, meeting Geralt’s uneven thrusts upwards, “I want to see how many times I get you to come before you can’t take anymore. After all, I don’t like to make any lady that gets into my bed want for it.”

“Fuck - and how are they - not wanting?” Geralt blurts in between strokes.

“Depends on the lady in question. And I haven’t been with another in a while, but I think the last I was with - we didn’t have long and I still managed to get four out of her. Could have managed more if I wasn’t pressed for time. Want to see if I can do better with you?”

“ _Please_ -”

“How lovely of you to ask this nicely. Come on,” he goes on, “I know you’re close. No need to hold back.”

After _that_ \- well, after that, Jaskier almost thinks he _will_ come untouched just feeling Geralt letting go _under_ those skirts, but no, he can hold out, and instead of thinking with his damned dick he leans down to kiss Geralt properly as he keeps on spasming against his hand, swallowing a whine when he moves it away.

“No need for that,” he says, “now it’s time to be a bit more refined.”

He moves his hands back on Geralt’s waist, motioning for him to roll over on his stomach, and he does, hair spread all over his back, hands grasping the pillows, and that skirt covering all of the mattress. He considers lifting it up for a moment, but he doesn’t think he needs that now, and so he runs his hands along Geralt’s back, tying back the laces properly, and then runs his hands over his legs through the silk until he reaches his ankles. When he squeezes, Geralt moans again, and - _well_ , he thinks, _good to know_ , next time he could do with a foot massage or something, but for now… he has other plans.

“Spread your legs, dear,” he says, his blood boiling as the sight of Geralt doing it without asking questions, and then he lifts the both skirt and underskirts, moving his head underneath and crawling forward where he can feel those silken smallclothes. They’re drenched in come at the touch, of course they are, and he delicately moves them down enough to uncover Geralt’s ass, and fine, he can’t see much now but he certainly can _feel_ things, and he certainly feels Geralt’s gasp when he starts kissing his way up on thigh and down the other, circling his entrance before running his tongue very, very slowly over the rim.

He’s wholly not surprised when Geralt jerks backward - he moves his hands upwards, finding the corset under the belt, gripping his hips, and goes for it again - he keeps himself to just barely licking along it over and over, touching the corset and feeling Geralt moan softly until he can push it, and when _he_ can’t keep on teasing anymore he moves back, sliding Geralt’s soaked smallclothes downwards and moving the skirts over his head. He lets the smallclothes fall on the other side of the bed as he blinks to readjust to the candlelight, and gods but he did the right thing because depriving himself of the sight of Geralt’s absolutely flushed face as he grasps at the pillows and bites down on it any longer would really have been a pity.

He moves a hand on the small of Geralt’s back, pressing a bit, and then looks down at the front side of the underskirt, also wet with pre-come now.

“Lovely,” he says, his hands going to Geralt’s thighs again, grasping at the muscle on their back. “I can’t remember the last time I made a girl _that_ wet.”

“Fuck,” Geralt groans, “ _fuck_ , I’m -”

“Close?” Jaskier goes on. “Good. Spread your legs a bit more and I can make you come on my tongue again, I think. And I want to open you up properly if I want to fuck you proper later, right?”

He’s pretty sure that Geralt’s vocabulary has shrunk down to _fuck_ and _please_ by now because that’s all he can say as he spreads his legs wider, moving the silks around them.

“Thank you,” Jaskier says, “that’s perfect,” and then he leans down and gets down to it for real, his tongue actually plunging forward and licking his way into Geralt’s ass until Geralt is moaning underneath him and leaking over those silks, moving just enough to find some relief, and _fuck_ Jaskier does want to take him in his mouth but he can do that later, maybe going under those skirts again, now _that_ would be nice, and at that point he _does_ touch himself through his own breeches at this point because he _will_ come if he doesn’t get some of the edge off. He keeps on running his tongue inside Geralt until he can feel him tense up for a moment, and then he plunges it in as deep as he can and _then_ Geralt comes again with a louder moan, spilling right against the silks, and at that point it takes some control he barely had a clue he even had it in himself to _not_ touch him as he does, but - soon.

 _Soon_.

He spits on his fingers as he moves back, brushing his tips along the rim as he reaches for the chamomile oil he had ready on the nightstand, and he keeps on teasing until Geralt falls down against the mattress, breathing out, the underskirt in the front completely wet with come now. And he still clenches around his fingers as he does.

“Come on,” he says, “turn over. I want to look at that pretty face of yours while I fuck you properly.”

Geralt groans again as he slowly gets on his back, trying to not get the skirts tangled, and when Jaskier actually gets to see his face properly he can’t stop himself from leaning down at once and kiss him stupid - the eye paint held up and Geralt’s blown pupils rimmed in gold had looked almost glowing in the firelight, and his flushed cheeks framed by the waterfall of pale hair had painted the hottest damned picture, and when Geralt’s hands move around his back Jaskier moans into his mouth, too, and they don’t move apart until he really, _really_ needs to breathe.

“Fuck,” he blurts, “you look _gorgeous_ , I need to be in you _now_ -”

“What are you waiting for then?”

Jaskier doesn’t know _how_ Geralt meant for that to come out, but sure as fuck he sounds like he _really_ is on board with it. Good. But - no, he’s not going to rush it _too_ much. As Geralt moves a leg behind his back, he pours more oil on his fingertips and slides two inside Geralt, then three, until he’s sure he’ll slide inside easily, and then he quickly gets off his breeches and smallclothes and gets what oil’s left on his cock which is not rock hard just because he _did_ touch himself a bit before, and fuck his own clothing definitely need a wash or two, but _who cares_.

He knows he _could_ just go all in, Geralt has made it clear multiple times that he can handle it, but he doesn’t think he wants to, though, so he takes a deep breath and slides inside him slow and careful, Geralt’s other leg going behind his back, too, and fuck but he’s looking up at him with eyes that look two darker shades of gold and a kiss-swollen mouth and now his eyeliner has smudged over a bit and -

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, “you’re taking me so well, you know that?”

Geralt says nothing but clenches around him a bit tighter and _fuck_ , he’s not going to last long like this - he thrusts in slower, hands grasping the silk around Geralt’s shoulders as Geralt moans against his throat, and then he remembers how he liked it before when he pulled the laces of the dress -

“Hey,” he blurts, moving a hand beneath the collar, grasping the strings of the corset, undoing the first ribbon and then grabbing them both, “hey, is _this_ something -”

“Fuck, _yes_ ,” Geralt moans, clenching around him a bit tighter, and then moaning louder when Jaskier _pulls_ , and fuck but he can feel that he got hard _again_ and his cock is pressing against Jaskier’s skin and he just wishes he could touch it but he can’t now, not when he has to keep his other hand around Geralt’s neck if he doesn’t want to lose balance -

“Touch yourself,” he blurts, and at that Geralt groans, leaning his head back a bit, neck exposed in the candlelight. He leans down, kissing along his throat. “Come on,” he says, “I want you to come again while I’m in you. Think you can do that, darling?”

He feels Geralt nod as one of his hands moves in between the two of them, and he moans again as he starts jerking himself off - and oh, now that his arm with the long sleeve is in between them Jaskier can feel all that silk on his chest, too, and _fuck_ if he’s not close -

“Yes,” he blurts, “perfect, you’re doing great,” he adds, tugging on the strings, and Geralt moans louder as he keeps on jerking himself off, “does it feel good?”

“Fuck - yes,” Geralt about whines as he takes in a breath the moment Jaskier lets the strings a bit loose. “It’s so smooth - _oh_ , do it _again_ -”

“What,” Jaskier grins, “this?” He tugs on the strings harder, his other hand buried at the back of Geralt’s head so he can run his fingertips through the hair just above, and Geralt moans so loud, he’s glad the music downstairs turned loud enough that no one would hear them.

“Yes,” he says, “just like _that_ , oh -”

Jaskier fucks into him just a bit harder. They’re _both_ close, he knows, but if he can drag it out just a bit longer -

“What,” he says, “is it the corset? You like it a little painful? Tell me,” he urges, snapping his hips forward again.

“Feels good,” Geralt slurs, “and ‘s not painful, _oh, fuck, again_ , I mean, not to me, but I can _feel_ it -”

“Guess what, you look so lovely in it,” Jaskier goes on when he doesn’t finish that sentence, “come on, whenever you want, I’m not done with you yet.”

Geralt starts moving his hand faster, and _fuck_ he’s clenching around him harder -

“No?” He moans, and Jaskier tugs at the strings again.

“Not until I’ve had you in my mouth at least, gorgeous,” he says, and at _that_ he feels Geralt go still again and that’s it, he can’t hold back anymore, and he’s burying himself inside him one last time before he finally lets go just as Geralt spills all over again on his stomach, and maybe it’s not as strong as before but it fucking _lasts_ and he’s still tight and so so warm around Jaskier’s cock, and his whole frame is shaking with how _good_ it feels and if he thinks about how those skirts are filthy with the _both_ of them now his blood boils hotter and _hotter_ and he has to let the strings go and kiss Geralt proper at that, moaning into his mouth as the both of them keep on coming, and he grasps at Geralt’s soft, smooth hair as he does and Geralt whines into it again and _again_ until they’re both spent and breathing hard on the mattress, the skirt bunched all around Geralt’s thighs and his chest falling up and down against the corset’s strings.

Jaskier is pretty sure he’s never come so hard in his entire life, and he pulls out slowly just to feel his blood rushing downward at the sight of Geralt’s thighs and the back of the dress stained with _his_ come.

Not that Geralt isn’t a sight in himself, all spread on the mattress, hair still braided falling all over the pillow and some strands stuck to his forehead, the green and gold eye paint still clinging to his eyelids. He reaches down, kissing him again, and _oh_ he’s so _not_ tense now. He pushes a few locks away from his forehead, wiping sweat away, and then glances at the side of the bed, where he left the dirty smallclothes from before.

“Look at you,” he says, “you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

It’s telling of how far gone Geralt must be that he doesn’t protest it and just moves a hand behind his neck, kissing him again without a hint of finesse. Jaskier laughs into it, only breaking away a while later. There’s still music playing downstairs, but he can barely make out the song. Not that he minds, right now.

“So,” he grins, reaching for the smallclothes, “I was thinking.”

“Not done yet?” Geralt slurs, but he doesn’t sound like _he_ is, either.

“Not until _you_ are, and I think that I’m not done with you.”

“And what’s the plan?”

“The plan,” he says, “is that I put these back on you and I use my mouth while you have them on until you’re close and _then_ I suck you off properly.”

“Oh, _fuck_ -”

“ _And_ , if that gets me going as it usually does,” he smiles again, fingers running along the embroidering on the dress until they reach the belt at the waist, “I _definitely_ could fuck you again. Not that I’m not tempted to come on your face, too, but you look so lovely like _that_ , I wouldn’t want to ruin it.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Geralt says again, and when Jaskier’s fingers close around his cock again, giving it a slow stroke, it _does_ jerk in his hand. “Yes, _yes_ , do it -”

“Look at that,” he says, “I’ve been with girls who took longer to be ready to go again.”

He’s rewarded with another moan, and at this point he supposes that he should just stop teasing and go for it - he reaches for the smallclothes and slowly slips them back on, kissing the sides of Geralt’s ankles as he does, and when he leaves them back on he _knows_ that he definitely won’t have a problem getting hard again soon enough because just the damned sight is making his blood rush downwards, _again_.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” he says before leaning down and running his tongue along the dirtied silk while he keeps his hands right over Geralt’s hips, fingertips grasping at the smallclothes, and it really is _way_ too easy - he only has to suck him off through it for a short while before he’s half-hard again, and when he pulls down the silk and takes Geralt’s cock into his mouth fully after licking even more precome off it, Geralt is writhing under him not long later, hardening against his tongue with every damned passing second, and by the time he screams his name and comes into Jaskier’s mouth, _his_ own dick is half-hard again and he can see that Geralt _absolutely_ takes notice of it the moment he kneels back up on the bed and it gets into his line of sight.

“So,” Jaskier says as he leans down again, after Geralt’s tongue has run over his mouth, and gods but the way he swallowed after _certainly_ hasn’t helped Jaskier get himself even a bit under control, “should I fuck you again? I think I want to go _very_ slow just in case I can get you to come on me again, but no touching this time. What do you say? Think you can do five? Not that I couldn’t go on all night long with how stunning you look, darling, but I _really_ want to see if I can make you come at least another time.”

“If - if you keep on talking like that it won’t take you long,” Geralt moans, hands grasping at Jaskier’s hips, and well, if _that_ ’s how it is -

“I can keep on talking all night long, dear,” he whispers against his ear as Geralt spreads his legs again. “And I didn’t even need to ask you,” he goes on, fingering him for a moment, but he’s still loose from before. “Perfect,” he says again, “you’re still so _wet_ , fuck, you know we have to do this again and keep on doing it as often as possible, _right_?”

“What,” Geralt groans, “you will need the full get-up every time?”

Jaskier fucks into him again slowly, it’s not like he has to hurry, and he _does_ want Geralt to get hard again before he starts going faster.

“No, but I think it’s obvious you drive me mad when you’re wearing it. So, does my lady want to see if we can go for it maybe once more after this?”

“You _could_?” Geralt asks, almost as if he hopes -

“All things considered, I can make a valiant try. Or I can jerk you off until you’re done for good,” he smirks again, and at _that_ Geralt moans again, and Jaskier can see that all his talking is indeed working.

He grasps at the corset’s strings again and tugs just as Geralt’s mouth finds his. “That a plan?” He asks.

“ _Yes_ , fuck, just - just do it -”

“We said slow, didn’t we?” Jaskier grins. “And we _do_ have all the time in the world,” he says, and then he leans down and kisses him again, and maybe it takes a while before Geralt comes on him again but he _does_ and by the time it happens Jaskier has come inside him a second time and they’re both absolutely filthy, but it was so worth it, he barely even cares - they can bathe tomorrow. And while _he_ happens to be completely spent, he does manage to make Geralt come a sixth time just with his right hand after.

 _After_ , he thinks that maybe he _should_ help Geralt get out of that dress, it can’t exactly be comfortable considering that the underskirts are filthy, but the moment he moves to unlace the back, Geralt’s hand goes to his forearm.

“Leave it,” he slurs, his head pressing against Jaskier’s shoulder, that soft silky hair falling all over his back.

“Wait,” Jaskier says, “you mean, the whole thing? Are you sure? If -”

“Leave it,” Geralt cuts him off. “I want it on. For now. You can take it off later.”

Then he moves an arm around Jaskier’s waist, pressing a bit closer, a leg casually thrown over Jaskier’s with the entire skirt, eyes closed and still smeared in paint, and fuck he does look like he’s enjoying the afterglow _very_ , very much -

Well.

Who is Jaskier to spoil it for him?

“Just ask when you want to get out of it,” he agrees, running a hand over the laces on the back while another carefully undoes the braids, running his fingers through the now almost wavy strands and smoothing them out.

Geralt hums and moves closer, fingers grasping Jaskier’s side harder, and Jaskier knows he’s about to ask something, but doesn’t try to press it. He will when he feels like it, and so he keeps on untangling his hair, until -

“Guess you _will_ want to do this again.”

Jaskier _has_ to laugh a bit at that. “ _Of course_ I want to. Thought it was obvious by now.”

Geralt hums in approval, waits a moment longer -

“Never mind,” he says then.

“What?”

“Nothing. Wouldn’t be doable anyway.”

“I think _everything_ can be arranged, at this point. Come on, spill.”

Geralt shrugs, then - “I doubt we could take _any_ of this outside.”

For a moment Jaskier doesn’t follow, but then -

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“You mean… you want to do something in public while -”

“Not worth the risk,” Geralt cuts him off. “It’s more than all right as it is.”

Jaskier considers it for a moment - it _would_ be risky to eat in a regular tavern like this, Geralt is right, especially for _him_ , and that’s probably what he meant with do something _outside_ , but -

Well.

Not a regular tavern.

“You’re presuming I don’t know a few places in Oxenfurt where it could be arranged,” he says, and he feels Geralt go still for a moment.

“You do _what_ ,” he replies.

“I know a few places in Oxenfurt where it _absolutely_ could be arranged,” Jaskier says, narrowing it down. “I _did_ spend years there while in a university, do you think I don’t know exactly every place of ill repute which as noble students or _whatever_ we shouldn’t have attended and where we went anyway because even our teachers could be found visiting from time to time? It would have to be in winter and it might take me a bit of time to figure it out, but hold on to that thought. It’s not… undoable. But I should hope I won’t have to wait that long before I get to see you in a dress again.”

The way Geralt groans at that, if Jaskier wasn’t completely exhausted, it _would_ have gone straight to his dick. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“Then - then fine. I mean. I would like that. And I - I don’t want to wait that long before putting either this or the other one on again, so - fuck. _Yes_ , all right?”

“I think I got the gist,” Jaskier says, and then leans a bit down to kiss Geralt so he stops looking like he’s fishing for words, hands still running over the ribbon at the back of the dress.

He absolutely can’t wait for the next time they get to do _this_ -

But he also really needs to start considering which of his three favorite places to go for finding company in Oxenfurt back in the day would be more discreet. Because now that he considers the option of the two of them going out in public with Geralt dressed like _that_ , even just for eating dinner…

 _Well_.

He’s definitely, _definitely_ going to try and arrange it. It would be a right pity if he didn’t get to show any of those dresses off, after all.

End.


End file.
